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Browsing Tag: #appalachia
Alright. Y’all have to read this book. It will take you one day. I would say it will take you one hour, but it won’t, because you’ll have to stop after every story and laugh, then read it to anyone standing near you, then call everyone you know & read it to them. Repeat x81 (that’s how many stories there are). Then you’ll call me & tell me what an excellent recommendation I gave. You’re welcome. Messing With Tourists There’s supposed to be a picture there. Oh well. Here’s a couple of my favorite segments…
This post began January 5th, 2015, and finally came full circle months later when I realized I was waiting on the owner of the pigs, as I knew I eventually would. “Have you seen those two big pigs down here? They’re up on the hill…in some chain link fence….” Yankee trails off as I squint my eyes at her, trying to determine if she just launched into this story or if there was a prelude that I hadn’t been tuned in for. Rewind…replay….no. “Which road???” I ask. “Chapman Highway.” Mighty long road. “Where at on Chapman?” “Uhhhmmm…I can’t think….it’s up on a hill….there’s chain link around the property…” She’s vaguely gesturing with her right hand. “What’s the closest business or road to it?” “….I’m not sure….” “Is it before Zion Hill or after?” “After.” “Is it before Sugarloaf Road or after, or do you even know where Sugarloaf is?” “Yeah, it’s after.” “Is it after the Wye?” “No, it’s before.” “Okay, so they’re between Sugarloaf & the Wye?” “No. It’s if you’re leaving Sevierville, before you get to Sugarloaf…
Most of you know today as Pearl Harbor Day. To me, it will always be my Grandmother’s birthday as well. I could always remember it because it fell on a National day of remembrance. She has been gone a little over six years. I miss her, but not as much as I thought I would. My grandmother, a few of you know, was a bit of…how shall I say???…loose cannon? You’re a pistol growing up, and if you achieve adulthood & are still out there tenaciously fighting tooth and nail, you are a warrior. I can tell these stories now that she’s gone. She was married for awhile, but her husband was a bit of a spendthrift (among other things, I gather). Once, he came back to the house for a “chat” & she pulled a gun on him. He scoffed that it wasn’t loaded, and she shot the dirt from under his feet 25 feet away. That was the last time he visited. Oh, I know that .38 pistol well. I pulled it on Johnny one morning when I thought he was an intruder. Luckily, he was expecting it & came through the door hollering, “it’s me, baby, don’t shoot!” I reckon he’s always known me pretty well. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She knew me better than anybody. I…
There’s a lot I could say about today. Heck, there’s a lot I can say about any given day. But I know what it was like to be scared to drive home on this day 13 years ago. I know how utterly terrifying it was to put your life in someone else’s hands & fly for the next year or two. I know what it feels like to worry about being a target, due to being in such close proximity to Oak Ridge. Yes, I profile. Yes, I’m prejudiced against Islamic people. (Actually, I’m not prejudiced. I despise almost everybody equally.) And it makes me angry that people disagree with our presence overseas, argue that we didn’t need a war. “Fight fire with fire” isn’t just an expression. You actually do fight fire with fire sometimes, especially in the case of brush fires. See, fire is reckless. It’s dangerous. It has nothing to lose, it takes everything in its path with it. So you start another fire, and control it to make it collide with the uncontrolled burn. They meet, and there’s nothing left for it to take. So it burns itself out. My metaphor here is the kamikaze pilots. They know nothing but fighting, death, & destruction. So that’s how you make them understand. You can’t reason with evil. Imagine getting up to go to…
Last Sunday I was driving down Boyds Creek & I saw these two old ladies out in the yard. One was pointing to a particular plant in her flowerbed, and the other was peering at it & nodding sagely. They wore polyester pant suits, it looked like to me, with their hair sets & big-enough-to-notice-but-not-big-enough-to-be-tacky necklaces. I slowed, and resisted the urge to stop & watch them, or better yet, join them. They reminded me SO MUCH of my great-grandmother, my Mamaw. I was fortunate enough to have her next door until I was in high school. She loved her flowers. There were several flowerbeds surrounding her home, taking up most of the yard. She had a huge sage patch, and she grew dill, and tended the biggest aloe plant I have ever seen (For those of you that have seen mine, think x3). She also had this magnificent Christmas cactus that blossomed so hot pink it didn’t look real. Anyway, any time she had company, that was part of the ritual: touring the gardens. No matter how many times you’d previously visited, or how recently, you still had to observe the growth of her “cannies” (gigantic leafy red plants with enormous stalks I always thought were hideous), her prizewinning elephant ears that I could hide behind until I was ten, her millions of tulips, the weeping peach tree she was so proud…
I’ve decided I like golf. I think it’s one of those things you have to acquire a liking to, similar to lobster. This must mean I’ve matured at last. It’s pretty calming, & unobtrusive. I can read while it’s on, & not be bothered by war-like sounds emitted every few seconds, or the thunderous gorilla chanting & squeaks that accompany basketball. Perhaps best of all, the scenery is much more picturesque than that of any other sport I can think of. The fans are low-key & controlled, politely clapping or voicing a barely audible groan every now and then. The commentators stay calm, as well. The golfers themselves cut an elegant figure, dressed in a classic manner (for the most part-there is this one guy that’s kinda out there in some loud clothes but that’s fun too). There’s this guy named Bubba I’m pulling for, mainly due to his name but I also dig his hot pink driver. I wiki’d him & he seems like a top-notch kind of human. I say give golf a chance. It’s the last four holes of the masters, y’all, how much better does it get…
Two funerals in two days is too many. It makes you think about your own mortality, that’s for sure. Rex Pitner was killed on his tractor Tuesday evening, but by all accounts he went quickly & doing what he loved. I will miss Rex. He was a big man, which if you judged by looks alone you would think he was easily riled. That was not the case. He had an easy smile & loved to kid me. I dished it right back out. I never saw him angry, which is something, because he was in the stor…e at least twice a week (& despite our best efforts, we typically end up eventually ticking you off one way or another). He never ever ever had an ink pen & always wrote a check. I didn’t mind loaning him my pick-of-the-litter ink pen because he never failed to give it right back. If it hadn’t been disrespectful, I’d have liked to slip one in with him tonight. Hate for him to be unprepared 😉 Happy Trails, Mr. Pitner…
Most of you remember him as “The Mule Man” at Silver Dollar City and later, Dollywood. Somewhere, my mom has a picture of he & I together in front of the mill, me grinning like a mule eating sawbriars. Later, when I came to work at the Co-op, I was astonished when he came walking up to buy sweet feed. I hadn’t thought about him in twenty years, & thought he was long gone to heaven. He was OLD when I was little! But here he was, just acting like a normal person, shopping at th…e local feed & seed. I remember after he left, I was beside myself! I had just been in the presence of a real celebrity!!! Gary & Judy were laughing because he was just a regular mountain man to them, & unbeknownst to me, had lived right over the hill from me “in the valley” years ago (& missed it desperately, as he would tell anybody that asked). Red, indeed, was a regular customer, I came to know soon after. I was always dazzled to wait on him & would engage him in conversation every time I had the opportunity. He worked at The Mine in Governor’s Crossing for awhile & would regale me with stories of the tourists who remembered him from their vacations in years previous, taken with their parents. And now here they were with THEIR kids, & had to have…
I have turned into an old woman this holiday season. We have acquired (meaning, I bought) a birdfeeder because we’ve been seeing some cute finches & bluebirds hanging around. I’ve spent most of the day peering out, hoping to catch a glimpse of a bird having a snack. Alas, none have stopped by. Maybe they aren’t sure about the pineapple. Also, I have been appalled at the waste that Christmas brings. People (including myself) just bought to be buying. You feel like you have to spend x amount on a person to show your love. What a bunch of crap. That’s why America is in the misery it is now! Stepping off my soapbox. Sorry, I got carried away. For lunch I enjoyed some leftovers accompanied by one of those marvelous chicken pot pies created by the magical people at Banquet frozen foods. They are delicious and filling & only fifty cents!! And finally, my activity today has been rearranging the library to make room for my beautiful cast iron mermaid. I’ll post a picture of her later. So see? I’ve grown old before my time! I should be out in the masses, spending my gift cards! …hahaha, sometimes I crack myself up…
This was one of those turnaround posts. One that people loved and shared and complimented me on for days after. And made me consider getting serious about my writing. Today I’m thankful I live in the south. Can y’all even imagine me in Yankeeland? I’m thankful for the flowering dogwoods, magnolias, and crepe myrtles. I’m thankful for the summer days where it’s too hot to even swim, {forget about getting married 😉}I’m thankful for the accents that use every letter in the word. I’m thankful that most people still have enough manners to hold a door open or let you in front of them in line if you’ve only got an item or two. I’m thankful that we have people willing to keep history alive by re-creating the War of Northern Aggression. I’m thankful for the music of cicadas in the late evenings. I’m thankful for all the little festivals celebrating bar-be-que, apples, & catfish. I’m thankful for fried food, sweet tea, cornbread, and beans. I’m thankful that we’ve captured the hearts of everyone who passes through. I’m thankful that we have a church on every corner. I’m thankful for days spent fishing for trout on the foggy Clinch river, hiking and tripping over the mountains in the Great Smokies, & going even further…
